


mall date

by squirmymochi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Desperation, Don't Like Don't Read, First Dates, M/M, Male Desperation, Omorashi, bladder desperation, pee desperation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 04:57:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20371063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squirmymochi/pseuds/squirmymochi
Summary: Lance picks up his now empty soda cup, then reaches for Keith’s, and his heart drops into his stomach.Keith’s cup of soda is completely full, barely having been touched throughout the movie. Not to mention the fact that sweat has started to form on the outside of the cup, wetting his hand and making him shiver involuntarily.This is bad, he thinks, rocking his hips to the side once when he’s sure Keith's not looking.If he doesn’t have to pee, there’s no way I’ll be able to go without making it awkward!Well, there’s nothing to do about it now. His only choice is to suck it up and wait until he's back home. Sure, he’s pretty uncomfortable right now, but he’ll be able to wait a half an hour. He’s seventeen, for crying out loud, not some little kid! No seventeen-year-old asks their not-date to wait for them while they run to the bathroom because they can’t hold it any longer.***(or: keith takes lance on a not-date and lance gets himself into a bit of a desperate situation)





	mall date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starbucky (StarBucky)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarBucky/gifts).

_ It’s not a date, _ Lance tells himself, for maybe the hundredth time that day.  _ He’s just taking me to see a movie, and that’s only because we’re both fans of the series. There’s nothing strictly romantic about seeing a movie with a friend, right? _

Still, that doesn’t stop his heart from pounding rapidly inside his chest, or his hands from shaking and sweating, or his mouth and throat from going completely dry. He swallows nervously, wiping his palms along the side of his jeans as subtly as he can, his throat working hard against the lump that’s lodged itself there.

Keith notices. Of course he does, because for all that he pretends to be an oblivious idiot, he does on occasion pay attention to his surroundings. He taps Lance on the shoulder gently, tilting his head to the side in a way that can’t possibly be as cute as it is.

“You thirsty?” he asks, his eyes flickering down to Lance’s mouth for a second, setting his skin on fire.

“I-I’m fine!” Lance replies, but his voice sounds strained even to his own ears. Keith raises an eyebrow, then turns back to face the concessions counter. He’s already ordered a large popcorn for the two of them to share, and a box of Sour Patch Kids that’s probably about half as full as it’s advertised to be.

“Can we get two large sodas, too?” Keith asks, reaching for his wallet. Lance scrambles inside his backpack for the money he’d put aside for their not-date, but Keith’s other hand shoots out to stop him before he can offer to pay for half.

“It’s my treat,” he says, a small smile on his face, and Lance practically melts right there. He’s seriously a goner at this point.

The cashier returns with two comically sized cups of coke, and Keith pays quickly, handing one of the cups and the box of popcorn to Lance before they make their way over to the theater. They’re seeing the newest Voltron movie, the one that just came out a couple of days prior. Lance has been looking forward to it for months, and seeing it with Keith is the icing on the cake.

They settle into their seats as the previews start, and once again Lance finds himself getting nervous. He pops a couple of pieces of popcorn into his mouth and chews quickly, then takes a couple of long sips of his drink. He feels hot sitting this close to Keith, and the salt from the popcorn isn’t helping his dry mouth, but if he stops eating he doesn’t know where he’ll put his hands, so he keeps going anyway. By the time the movie actually starts, his cup is half empty.

_ Voltron: Defender of Life _ is amazing, as expected. Lance almost forgets his nerves entirely, being so sucked into the plot that he doesn’t even realize Keith’s hand is brushing against his underneath the armrest. Just as he suspected, nothing can take him out of the universe of paladins and space lions with a healthy side of relationship drama.

Well,  _ almost _ nothing can. Halfway into the movie he shifts to get more comfortable and feels a short pang from his bladder. He winces, glancing down at his soda cup once again. He can see through the clear lid that he’s already drank most of it, which explains the tight, aching feeling in his abdomen. He should probably head to the bathroom as soon as the movie is over, save himself from further pain.

His saving grace is the fact that once the movie is over, Keith will most likely have to go to the bathroom, too. They had the same size sodas, which means if Lance is feeling the urge to go, Keith will probably be feeling it just as strongly. That means they’ll both be able to go without one of them awkwardly having to wait for the other one, which gives him some semblance of hope.

He tries to pay attention to the movie from then on, but once he’d realized how much he needs to use the bathroom, he can’t get the feeling to go away. It’s like a nagging presence in the back of his brain, reminding him every now and then with little pangs of aching that he shouldn’t have drank his soda so early on into the showing. By the time the credits roll, he’s not even sad about the movie being over--he just wants to find a bathroom before things get worse for him.

“Did you like it?” Keith asks as they stand, waiting for the people next to them to file out of the theater before it’s their turn to exit.

“Huh?” Lance replies, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Standing upright--and standing  _ still _ , at that--has not done any favors for his situation, but like hell he’ll ever show his need in front of Keith. The two of them may be on friendlier terms now, but that doesn’t mean Keith won’t make fun of him if he starts whining and dancing like a child.

“I asked if you liked the movie,” Keith says again, tilting his head towards the screen. “I thought it was good. The Voltron directors really know what they’re doing by now.”

“O-Oh, yeah,” Lance agrees with a rapid string of nods. “I liked it a lot, too. Um, Akira is really hot, don’t you think?”

“Akira, huh?” Keith muses. “I kind of liked Leandro, actually.”

Lance forces himself to chuckle as the line of viewers makes its way towards the exit. He picks up his now empty soda cup, then reaches for Keith’s, and his heart drops into his stomach.

Keith’s cup of soda is almost completely full, barely having been touched throughout the entire movie. Not to mention the fact that sweat has started to form on the outside of the cup, wetting his hand and making him shiver involuntarily.  _ This is bad, _ he thinks, rocking his hips to the side once when he’s sure Keith isn’t looking.  _ If he doesn’t have to pee, there’s no way I’ll be able to go without making it awkward! I should have thought ahead… _

Well, there’s nothing to do about it now. His only choice is to suck it up and wait during the half-hour long ride back to his house. Sure, he’s pretty uncomfortable right now, but he’ll be able to wait a half an hour. He’s seventeen, for crying out loud, not some little helpless kid! No seventeen-year-old asks their not-date to wait for them while they run to the bathroom because they can’t hold it any longer.

With his mind made up, he shuffles out of the row of seats behind Keith, using the opportunity of his turned back to squeeze his thighs together as he moves. This is--this is fine. He’s fine! He can totally hold it until he gets home.

The lights are so bright when he exits the theater that he has to squint his eyes against the glare. He’d almost forgotten how light the rest of the world was, being submerged in the darkness of the theater for over two hours. As he lets his eyes adjust, he catches sight of a blue hanging sign with the symbols for the men’s and women’s bathrooms installed in a corridor to their left. His eyes drift down, and he winces as though he were in physical pain.

There’s a long,  _ long _ line trailing out of both the men’s and women’s bathrooms. It stretches from the entrance to the bathroom almost all the way to the theater they’d just come out of, and from the looks of it, it doesn’t seem to be moving very quickly at all. A few people have even taken out their phones to kill time.

None of this bodes well for Lance. If he hadn’t been sure about holding it all the way home before, this  _ definitely _ would have cemented his resolve. There’s no way he’s going to make Keith stand there and wait for him while he inches his way through the slowest moving line of all time! Not only would that be beyond embarrassing for him, it would totally ruin the good mood they’d had coming into the date-

The not-date. It’s not a date.

He takes a deep breath and tears his eyes away from the line and the temptation of the bathroom, turning instead to the trash can on his other side. He tosses his empty cup into the bin, then holds up the other one with a questioning look towards Keith.

“I’m done with it,” Keith tells him, crushing the bag of popcorn and throwing it after Lance’s cup. “Guess I wasn’t as thirsty as I thought.”

“O-Okay,” Lance says, placing the cup at the top of the nearly-full garbage can and immediately reaching down to wipe his damp hand on the leg of his pants. He shudders at the thought of an entire large cup of soda inside him, making its way into his already stretched-out bladder. He grits his teeth and forces himself to straighten up, falling into step with Keith as they head towards the exit.

_ Half an hour left, _ he thinks, not daring to imagine what would happen if they were to get stuck in traffic.  _ You can do this. Do  _ not _ let Keith know you have to go. There’s no way you’ll live it down. _

“Are you hungry at all?” Keith asks with a glance towards the stairs that lead to the food court. “We could get something to eat. I know food court food isn’t  _ great, _ but it’s better than nothing. All you’ve eaten since we got here is popcorn.”

“I’m fine!” Lance says, maybe a bit too quickly to be casual. “I-I mean, if you’re hungry, we can stop by, but I’m okay.”

“Hm,” Keith hums. “I’m not really hungry, either.”

“Alright!”

They continue on their way towards the exit, although Keith keeps stopping to look inside each store they pass and making small talk about the stuff displayed in the windows. (He seems particularly skeptical of the mannequins inside the Gap.) Lance does his best to respond normally, but his jokes seem to fall flat, and he can tell he’s acting a little bit strange. It’s too bad he’s in such a rush to get home--he’d be having a great time if he weren’t so uncomfortable. He’s starting to consider if the word  _ desperate _ applies to the situation yet, or if he’s still got a ways to go before he can claim to be so. He shifts his hips side to side once, trying to make it look like he’s just restless, but it doesn’t help at all.

He’s taken three more steps towards the door, which is in his line of sight now and looks terribly inviting, when he realizes Keith isn’t by his side anymore. Confused, he turns to look the way they’d come and sees Keith standing in front of yet another store. This one has skateboard decks lined up with the colorful sides showing, and behind that are Thrasher jackets and snapbacks and other skater gear.

Keith isn’t saying anything this time. He seems distracted, staring intently at one of the decks with a familiar red lion on the underside.

“Keith?” Lance calls out. “What’s up, buddy?”

Keith blinks, then shakes his head once. His hair falls back in front of his face, perfect as ever. “Sorry,” he says. “I just- That’s a really nice deck.”

Lance starts to speak, to ask if he wants to go in, when his bladder gives off a pang of hurt far more intense than the aching he’d experienced before. He hisses, crossing one leg over the other and bending forward slightly, bobbing on the spot. He bites at his lip until it hurts, squeezing his thighs together as tight as he can and shifting his legs back and forth slightly, holding his breath against the wave of desperation--yes,  _ desperation _ now. His hands are shoved into his jacket pockets, balled into fists as he tries to will the feeling away.

Once he’s sure he’s in no immediate danger, and the throbbing feeling in his bladder has reduced itself enough, he lets out a long, shaky breath. He’s fine. He’s  _ fine. _ He’s got everything under control.

Glancing up, he finds that Keith has already turned back to admire the skateboard deck in the window.  _ Thank god, _ he thinks, letting out another sigh of relief. (Not  _ that _ kind of relief, though. He’s still got a long way to go before he gets  _ that _ .)

“It okay if we go in?” Keith asks, glancing over his shoulder for a second. Lance nods, not trusting his voice not to shake or his mouth not to blurt out that he’d  _ really like to be heading home right about now _ .

He shuffles after Keith into the skate shop, worrying his lip between his teeth as he moves.  _ He probably won’t take long, _ he tells himself as Keith loops around to the other side of the window to look at the deck.  _ Besides, you’re not a kid anymore. You can wait a few more minutes than you thought. _

Still, he can’t seem to take his mind off his bladder no matter how hard he tries to. The need to pee is overtaking his mind and body at once, forcing him to keep moving around the store or shifting from side to side and chewing on his lip until it’s red and puffy. He just wants to  _ go _ , in more ways than one. He  _ hates _ needing to pee in public, especially when he’s out with his friends and can’t conveniently find an excuse to slip away. Maybe he should have asked Keith to wait at the skate shop while he went to the bathroom, but he doesn’t know this mall well, and he’s never been very good with maps, which probably would have left him wandering around searching for a restroom for minutes on end while Keith stood inside the shop, wondering what was taking him so long.

_ Stop thinking about it, idiot! _ he berates himself as his bladder contracts sharply, the mental image of a bathroom almost too much for him to take. He hisses in pain and just barely thinks to duck behind a rack of skateboard decks before shoving his hand deep between his legs, pressing the heel of his hand down hard against his crotch. He bends one knee, lifting his foot off the ground as he twists his leg inwards against the other and clenches his other fist against his thigh, praying for the urge to go away. His bladder aches persistently, demanding that he find relief  _ soon _ before something bad happens, but at this point he’s made up his mind. He’ll hold it until he gets home, or he’ll die trying.

(It’s starting to feel like that’s a real possibility, at this point. He vaguely remembers reading about the human bladder and how it can explode under too much pressure, and it  _ definitely _ feels like there’s enough pressure down there right now, but he refuses to believe that his stupid pride could be responsible for bodily damage, especially when it comes to something so stupid.)

“Sir?” a soft voice comes from behind him, and he whips around, his hand flying away from his crotch and behind his back, foot landing firmly on the ground once again. A small employee stands in front of him, one eyebrow raised, and a flush of embarrassment settles over his cheeks as he realizes they’d seen the whole thing.

“Are you doing okay, sir?” the employee asks, the double meaning clear in their voice. “Need help with anything?”

“I’m fine!” Lance insists, though his voice comes out squeaky and unconvincing.  _ Just great, _ he groans internally. The poor kid probably thinks he’s jacking off in their store, when the last thing on his mind right now is sex. “Just… Admiring the skateboards, you know?”

“Yeah…” the employee says, sounding far from convinced. “Well, let us know if we can help you at all.”

“I will,” Lance says too quickly, all too eager to get out of the kid’s line of sight. At least it was just some stranger that saw him hold himself like a child, and not someone he knows. (Specifically, not Keith.)

Once he’s alone again, he leans against the closest wall and sighs, crossing one leg over the other and tipping his head back to bump against the exposed brick. He focuses on taking even breaths, in and out, hoping that if he calms his mind down it’ll work on the rest of his body, too. He feels too tense, too high-strung for someone who’s known for being easygoing and chill. He needs to calm down and handle the, er,  _ situation _ with a level head, or else he really isn’t going to make it.

He feels a tap on his shoulder, and snaps his head forward so fast he almost gets dizzy. Upon opening his eyes, he finds Keith standing in front of him, the deck from before tucked under his arm.

“Gonna get it?” Lance asks, his voice shaky in a way he can’t excuse. Keith raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t pry.

“Yeah, I think so,” he says, reaching up to run his finger along the smooth, wooden edge of the deck. “Do you mind waiting while I pay for it?”

Lance glances towards the counter at the front of the store, his heart sinking when he sees the short line of people waiting to buy their skate gear. “Sure,” he agrees, trying not to sigh out loud. He’s not annoyed with Keith, not really. He just wants to get home as fast as possible.

“Thanks,” Keith says, then turns towards the checkout counter. Lance counts the number of items visible in the customers’ hands as he waits, partly to distract himself from the nagging feeling in his abdomen and partly to calculate about how long he’ll have to wait until they finally get out of there.

The minutes tick down agonizingly slowly, and with each passing second Lance feels closer and closer to losing control. He really can’t remember the last time he’d needed to pee this bad outside of his own home. Sure, he gets distracted easily, but most of the time when he feels something this urgent, he gives up on whatever he’s doing and listens to his body.

He remembers once, back in fifth grade, he’d been so sucked into a new video game he’d received for Christmas that he hadn’t moved from in front of the TV for a solid seven hours. That, coupled with the numerous cans of Mountain Dew that he’d chugged in between battles had been a very uncomfortable recipe for disaster. He’d ended up running to the bathroom as soon as the last battle was over with his hands between his legs, dribbling little droplets of warm urine on the hard wood floor as he’d ran. Luckily, he’d made it to the toilet just in time and had been able to clean up the mess before anyone else figured out what was going on, but it had still been way too close a call.

He  _ also _ remembers the incredible feeling of much-needed relief that had washed over him as soon as he’d started pissing in earnest, and the thought sends a shudder through his body. If it had felt that good back  _ then, _ with his tiny fifth-grade bladder stretched to the limits, just  _ imagine _ how nice it would feel to let go now, at seventeen, with a tank almost as full as it had been before, only scaled up to size. It would probably be the most insanely pleasurable feeling right now, letting go all over the floor and finally,  _ finally _ being able to relax once again.

He barely stops himself from letting out a shrill, ear-splitting squeal as he feels a few drops of pee escape him, dripping out of the slit of his dick and moistening his underwear where it sits right over his entrance. He freezes, tensing every muscle in his body to stop the leak, holding his breath and bracing himself against the wall until his legs hurt, keeping his thighs locked together as tight as they’ll go.

This is bad. This is  _ really _ bad. He’s reaching uncharted levels of desperation, and he’s not sure if and how he’s going to survive the half-hour long car ride back to his house with his pants and his dignity intact. It just doesn’t seem possible, to hold this much pee that much longer. He already feels so  _ full, _ and it hasn’t even been that long since he’d finished his soda. What if his body filters his fluids on the ride home and adds even  _ more _ urine to the mix?

God, he’s getting even more desperate just  _ thinking _ about it. He lets out a pained sigh through his teeth and cracks his eye open, thanking the heavens that Keith is next in line. He grits his teeth and bears the aching in his abdomen as he watches Keith pay, and as soon as the employee hands the receipt over he’s making his way over, meeting Keith halfway to the door.

“Ready to go?” he asks, a little bit too quickly, but he’s not in the right state of mind to cover for it. He needs to get out of here, needs to go home so he can  _ pee, _ and then he can come up with some sort of excuse for his behavior.

“Yeah,” Keith says, hooking his arm around the deck and leading the way towards the parking lot. For someone so short, he  _ is _ a relatively quick walker, and Lance is both thankful and resentful of that face. The quick pace means that they’ll arrive at the car sooner, but it also gives Lance less rope to manage his desperation. He doesn’t want to take such long strides to keep up--he wants to press his legs together and bend his knees and hobble along at a pace unsuited to someone so tall and lanky, but wouldn’t that look suspicious. So instead he kind of awkwardly moves his hips forwards and backwards and side to side, hoping that it isn’t terribly obvious what his problem is. At least Keith is walking ahead of him so he won’t be able to tell.

They make it to the car. Keith throws his new deck in the back seat, then settles into the driver’s side, waiting for Lance to sit down as well. The car is a little small, which means he has to bend his knees and hunch his shoulders to fit inside comfortably--although nothing he’s doing is comfortable at this point. At last, they’re both situated, and Keith takes off in the direction of home.

They talk a little, for the first ten minutes or so of the drive, and despite Lance’s desperate state clouding his mind until he has trouble following the conversation, it does help get his mind off of his current situation. Keith asks him more questions about the new Voltron movie, and they even get a new theory started that Akira is actually part of the Galran race as well as being human, but by the time they’ve fully fleshed it out, he’s back to clenching his fists by his side and taking steadying breaths in and out.

God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to grab himself right now. He just wants to squirm and dance around until he makes it to a bathroom, but he can’t do that with Keith barely a foot away, expecting him to contribute to the conversation with absolutely no idea what Lance’s problem is. So he’s forced to sit there, rigid and stiff, unable to do anything to relieve the horrible, aching pressure between his hips.

That is, until they hit a bump.

It’s not a huge, car-crashing, concussion-dealing bump, but nonetheless it  _ is _ a bump, and as soon as the front tire hits whatever object was in the way, Lance loses control for just a second. There’s a heart-stopping moment while they’re in the air when he realizes that this is his ultimate doom, and when they hit the ground once again, he feels a long, hot jet of piss squirt out of him, wetting the inside of his boxers with a soft  _ hiss _ .

He gasps, doubling over in his seat and slamming his legs together, both hands flying down to bury themselves between his legs as he openly squirms back and forth, doing everything in his power to stop himself from flooding his pants and the seat of Keith’s car right then and there. The pressure in his bladder spikes as he attempts to get his body back under control, urging him to keep going, to give up and let go and finally achieve the blissful feeling of emptiness he’s been craving for so long now, but he  _ won’t _ . With a groan of pain, he clenches his sphincter muscles as tight as he can, wrapping both hands around the head of his dick and squeezing as if his life depends on it, arching his back and lifting his hips off the seat of the car, and at last gets the stream under control.

He can feel the wetness of his underwear, the sticky warmth spreading inside his pants but thankfully not soaking through to the outside. He can also feel Keith’s eyes on him, and all of a sudden his entire face bursts into a blush, shame overtaking him.

“Are you okay, Lance?” Keith asks, even though Lance is  _ clearly _ not okay.

“ _ Ahh… _ I’m…” Lance grunts, “I’m  _ fine _ …”

Keith, obviously, is not convinced. “Do you need to pee?” he asks, rather bluntly, but Lance is in no position to judge his social etiquette when he still has both hands wrapped around his dick in a rather public setting.

“M-Maybe a little,” he breathes, his cheeks reddening further. “I,  _ ah, fuck, _ I might have drained my, uh, my soda too fast b-back at the movie theater.”

His brow is covered in a sheen of sweat from the amount of effort he’s putting into holding it in, and his whole body feels tense and tired, like it’s just waiting for him to give into relief.

“Um… Do you think you can make it?” Keith asks, awkward. “We can go to my house instead if you want. It’s a little bit closer. Or I can pull over, if you need me to.”

_ Pull over! _ Lance’s brain screams, alarm bells ringing all around his head. “We should go-  _ mmh, _ we should go to your pl- place,” he stammers as another wave of intense desperation overtakes him. “ _ Please _ ,” he adds as an afterthought, barely conscious of himself anymore.

“Sure,” Keith agrees, and speeds up just a little bit. He seems to be keeping his eyes on the road, which Lance is immensely grateful for, considering the fact that he couldn’t stop squirming now that he’s started even if his life depended on it. His whole body feels flushed and hot, and the wet fabric of his underwear keeps sliding against the head of his dick, teasing him with what he can’t have. He feels another leak run down to the tip of his shaft and whimpers pathetically, mouth dropping open into a gasp as he cuts it off just in time.

“You sure you’re, uh, gonna be okay?” Keith asks again, then coughs awkwardly. “I don’t mind pulling over if you-”

“I’ll make it,” Lance pants, then lets out a particularly embarrassing moan. The surges of desperation are coming faster to him now, giving him less time to recover before the next one hits him. It’s pure torture. He’s positive that he’s never had to pee this badly in his  _ entire life _ , fifth grade video gaming session be damned. He’s sweaty, his muscles are sore, and he keeps making the most incriminating noises, like a cross between a wounded animal and a porn star.

He bucks his hips forward into his hands, practically grinding against his own palms as he searches for relief in any form. He’s at the stage of pure, utter agony where nothing seems like it helps anymore, and yet he knows for sure that if he lets go of his crotch he’ll lose it all right then and there. Switching back and forth between hunching over in his seat and arching his back so far that his ass lifts off the seat, he takes his lip between his teeth again to keep himself from moaning and whimpering. It doesn’t work in the slightest, but the pain from his teeth sinking into his skin is a welcome change from the pain in his bladder.

“C-Can you,  _ ahh, mh, _ can you h-hurry?” he pleads, tilting his head back and staring at the roof of the car as hot breaths escape past his lips. He swears he needs to piss so bad he can almost taste it, which is disgusting, but it really is what he feels like right now.

“I’m trying,” Keith tells him, and speeds up once again. Lance thanks the gods in heaven that they haven’t run into traffic--he doesn’t know if he can make it another five minutes, let alone however long being stuck on the road would take them.

Scratch that, he realizes as another spurt of hot piss escapes him. He’s not sure he can last another  _ sixty seconds _ , let alone five minutes. He keens into the air, double-crossing his legs and shifting from side to side as fast as possible, cursing the way the band of his jeans is digging into his poor, overfilled bladder. Torture, indeed.

“We’re almost there,” Keith promises over Lance’s breathy pants and whines. “Just hold on a minute longer.”

_ I’m doing my best! _ Lance thinks to himself as another squirt of pee threatens to escape. He can feel a wet patch soaking into the outside fabric of his jeans now, and the warm, wet sensation makes him groan out loud. God, this is so embarrassing, this whole thing is  _ so embarrassing, _ but he truly can’t help it at this point.

“Hang on, hang on,” he whispers to himself, closing his eyes tight. His hands are shaking now--his whole  _ body _ is shaking, but he’s almost there, so  _ close _ to relief, and he absolutely  _ cannot _ give up now that he’s made it this far.

The car turns suddenly, and then Keith is tapping him on the shoulder, and he’s opening his eyes to see a familiar looking house in front of him. “I’ll go unlock the door,” Keith says, and Lance could almost cry from relief, but he’s not there yet. Shakily, he removes one hand, and immediately a jet of piss soaks through his jeans and into his palm. God, it feels so  _ good _ to let go but he  _ can’t _ , not yet, and he could almost cry from how much he needs to go. In fact, a few tears are stinging his eyes right now, but he couldn’t care less at this point.

With a moan, he reaches for the car door and opens it, then lifts one shaking leg and places it on the ground.  _ So far, so good _ . He follows his first foot with the other, and then uses the last of his remaining strength to pull himself out of the car, and-

The longest jet of pee yet escapes him, spurting hot against his leg and dripping down to his mid thigh. He lets out an absolutely wrecked, desperate  _ moan _ and stumbles towards the door, where Keith is still fumbling with a ring of keys that has yet to unlock the house.

“K-Keith,” Lance pants, clutching himself tight and staggering onto the front porch. “Keith,  _ hurry _ ! I’m-  _ aahh, Keith, help! _ ”

“Just hold it a second longer!” Keith tells him in a panic, but Lance  _ can’t. _ He’s been holding it for far too long already, and his poor bladder is tired and his muscles are weak and he just  _ can’t _ anymore. With one final push of energy, he rips his hands away from his crotch, jams his legs against each other and tears at the button of his jeans, unhooking it on the second try and reaching for his fly zipper as a steady leak starts to make its way down his leg once again. He tears down his zipper and turns to the side, shoving his underwear aside and fishing his dick out, pointing it towards the little patch of grass and flowers on the side and  _ finally _ letting go.

His mind goes blank from the pure, unadulterated  _ relief _ of the moment, eyes fluttering shut and legs going to jelly as he at last lets himself relax and empty his bladder. He feels like he could collapse at any minute, staggering a step backwards and accidentally splashing some piss on the concrete porch before he has a chance to re-aim. He can hear the embarrassingly loud splashing against the stone surface, but it’s not enough to bring him back to the moment. He lets out a long, blissful sigh, too caught up in his continuous relief to really be aware of it.

The feeling of emptying his bladder after all this time is nothing short of the best thing he’s ever felt, almost (but not quite) making up for the two and a half hours of agony he’d had to go through to get here. So close to a bathroom, and yet it had still been too far for him to make it. And even through his empty-minded, pleasure-enduced haze, he suddenly realizes what it is he’s doing.

He’s pissing into a patch of grass in front of his crush’s house. _In front of his_ _crush_. With absolutely no way to stop now that he’s started, and with pretty much nothing to hide himself from Keith, who’s probably shocked and disgusted with him right now. And with that thought in mind, after almost a full minute of going full force, he forces his eyes open and almost against his will meets Keith’s gaze.

Keith is staring at him, wide-eyed, a dark pink blush spread across his cheeks. He’s definitely shocked, yes, but he almost seems embarrassed rather than disgusted. His eyes keep flitting away from Lance’s and then back, unsure of what to focus on. Lance feels his own face heat up as his stream tapers off, losing force and dripping a few more droplets onto the stone porch before he’s finally empty.

The two of them stand there in silence for almost thirty seconds, although it feels like a small eternity to Lance. He tucks himself away, then stands there opening and closing his mouth uselessly, like a fish out of water. “Keith, I-” he starts, but nothing else will come out. He’s empty in more ways than one, apparently.

“Lance…” Keith says, eyes darting down to the puddle between Lance’s legs before flying back up to his face, cheeks reddening even further.

“I’m  _ so sorry, _ ” Lance blurts, reaching up to clap his hand against his mouth but aborting the movement as soon as he realizes his hands are wet and sticky with pee.  _ Ew. _

“No, it’s-,” Keith stammers, shaking his head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“But I just… You know. In  _ front of you _ .”

“You-” Keith says, shaking his head again, more firmly this time. “You couldn’t help it, okay? So don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re not…  _ uncomfortable _ anymore.”

“You’re not angry?” Lance asks, hesitant.

“Angry? Of course not.” Keith frowns. “It’s not your fault, Lance. You really couldn’t wait, and that’s fine. I should have realized what was going on sooner. I just thought you weren’t having a good time on the date.”

“What? Of course I was having a good time on the-  _ What?! _ ”

Lance cuts himself off again, recoiling in surprise. Surely he can’t have heard that right, right? Surely Keith hadn’t just called it a  _ date _ after watching him practically piss himself less than five feet in front of the front door.

“I thought you didn’t want to go out with me, after all,” Keith admits, shuffling his feet on the ground awkwardly. “So I’m actually kind of glad that you had to pee.”

Lance can’t help it. He bursts out laughing, hand hovering in front of his mouth as he leans against the side of the house. His stomach hurts from the holding combined with his laughter, but he doesn’t even care anymore. Only  _ Keith _ could turn such an awkward situation into a heartfelt confession. (Well, as heartfelt as Keith can be, the socially awkward dummy.)

“What?” Keith asks, confusion rising in his voice. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because,” Lance says, straightening up and not even bothering to wipe the huge smile off his face. “I had a really good time. And if you’re really not grossed out by everything that just happened-”

“I’m  _ not _ ,” Keith insists, but Lance holds up a hand to stop him before he can protest further.

“If you’re not, then I’d really like to try this whole date thing again,” he finishes, tilting his head to the side and looking at Keith fondly.

“You really want to?” Keith asks hesitantly, looking up at Lance.

“Of course,” Lance says, smiling even bigger. “And next time, I’ll make sure to go to the bathroom after the movie.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for the wonderful [Starbucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarBucky/pseuds/Starbucky) on Ao3!! I really hope you enjoyed your fic, it was a pleasure working with you!  
[My Tumblr](https://squirmymochi.tumblr.com/) which you can check out for more omo, headcanons, and previews!


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